Thanksgiving Hope
by Scarlett88
Summary: This story takes place in November 1963, following the events of 'The Grown Ups'. The Drapers and the Hoftstadts come together for a final Thanksgiving at the Hoftstadt family home.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Happy New Year to everyone on the site. Thank-you for giving me the opportunity to share my work and receive feedback. It means a great deal to me and I treasure them all.**

Betty Draper circled Thanksgiving Day 1963 on the manila calendar attached to the kitchen wall. It was only a few weeks ago that she promised her brother and his family one last Thanksgiving at their childhood home. That was also the week that she came to a realization in her ten year marriage to her husband Don Draper, answering dozens of questions that had plagued her for years. The secret shoe box kept in the locked drawer of the office under her nose the entire time held answers to questions she was too afraid to ask. There were rumors that she believed to be true – that her husband frequented the company of other women, and ones that she couldn't bear to believe – that his entire past was one long fabricated tale. From the first word uttered to the line of excuses he fed her after being caught red handed, it was all made up.

She felt empty inside. A combination of events: from her father dying, seeing President Kennedy get shot over and over, to her so called husband lying about his very identity. She was now left with nothing but a cold, empty, numbing void.

She told herself that he made her this way. He took away her spirit with each lie, each letdown, and each broken dream. She wanted to believe in love and fairy tales, but with her track record, she figured she would end up alone.

She felt very alone that cold, wintry workday. Bobby and Sally were at the park with Carla the housekeeper, and baby Gene was content in the nursery. Betty presumed Don to be at the office, holed up in meetings and negotiations, the type that she was never included in. Her childhood home was going on the market, closing another chapter of her life. "Some New Year," she muttered. She was going to keep her word and have one last Thanksgiving in Philadelphia, make sure that the children said goodbye to their grandfather's home.

* * *

"I'm taking the children to Philadelphia this weekend for Thanksgiving," Betty announced at the table that night. Bobby and Sally immediately perked up at the mention of cousins and Uncle William and Aunt Judy.

Don fixed Betty one of his questioning looks. She had mentioned the possibility of one last Thanksgiving at her old house around the Halloween season. "Are you resolved?" he pressed, believing that her dislike for her brother would keep her in the city.

"Thanksgiving is supposed to be about family," Betty insisted. "William and I are selling the house. This will be my last weekend there and the children should see it one last time."

Don raised his hand in defense. "I just thought that with everything you've been through last week, you would want to stay closer to home."

"Life goes on," Betty said simply, fixing Don with a cold stare of her own.

"Is Daddy coming with us?" Sally asked hopefully, looking at her father with an aching longing.

"Daddy has to work," Betty replied, cutting her food. "Thanksgiving is the busiest time of the year for him." It was a line that had been fed multiple times over the past several years – a convenient excuse for skipping out on family holiday gatherings.

Don raised an eyebrow at his wife. "Things have slowed considerably with the Kennedy situation – people are afraid to do anything at work for fear that it will offend someone or they'll have to change the layout.

"Then you're coming?" Sally asked hopefully.

"One last Thanksgiving in Philadelphia," Don said slowly. "Sounds great."

Betty glared at her husband. "I wouldn't want to take you away from your work."

"You aren't," Don replied. "We leave Wednesday, spend Thursday and Friday with the family, and come home Saturday. I can always work over the weekend and catch up on anything I missed."

"Yeah Thanksgiving," Bobby cheered.

Betty said nothing, polishing off the rest of her glass of wine.

* * *

When the children were tucked in their respective beds, Betty ventured up to the attic to confront her husband over his surprising travel plans. Going up the creaky stairs, she couldn't help but recall the very reason he moved up here.

After President Kennedy and Lee Harvey Oswald were shot, Betty came to a realization. She was no longer afraid of breaking away from her sham of a marriage, no longer willing to be a captive to her husband's lies. She laid her cards out on the table, admitting that she didn't love him anymore. That feeling had been burning in her for weeks, aching inside of her. How could she love someone who had who had repeatedly betrayed and broken her trust on every level? He wasn't who he said he was, and every line fed to her was part of his agenda to keep up his façade.

She was the first to say it, though she believed he felt the same way about her and was too cowardly, in too much denial to admit it. There was nothing left for her with him, nothing that he could do or say that would erase the past or take away the sting of years of letdowns.

He was shocked by her declaration, taken aback by her apparent candor. He ran the gamut from confused, to furious, to what seemed to be rejected and hurt. After that, he moved himself to the attic and she didn't object to him doing so.

Reaching the final step, she boldly knocked on the door.

"Come in," Don called out.

Betty walked in, one hand on her hip. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded. "Don't' tell me your suddenly interested in my family, or myself after all this time."  
Don stood up to face her. "Thanksgiving is a time for family – you said so yourself."

"You've openly despised my family for years. You've never hidden it well."

"I'm sure the feeling's mutual," Don said evenly. "William never warmed up to me and your father…"

"Don't speak his name," Betty cut in.

"I want to be with the kids and you," he said slowly.

"After all this time, why start now?"

"Birdie," Don said softly, crossing over to her. "We've both made mistakes."  
"I seem to recall you making most of them," Betty pointed out. "My biggest mistake was believing in you."

"I want one last Thanksgiving with you and the kids," Don said finally.

"One last Thanksgiving," Betty echoed, realizing the finality of that phrase.

"The holidays are coming; Bobby and Sally should be able to have some good memories of us."

Betty clicked her tongue. "We leave at 9 AM Wednesday. Don't be late."

Don nodded his head. "I'll be there."

"Goodnight then," Betty said, turning to go.

"Goodnight," Don called after her. He watched her go down the stairs, wanting to go after her and say more. He wanted to tell her everything he didn't tell her that night that Oswald died – that he loved her, couldn't stop thinking about her, and wasn't willing to live without her. It took him years to get to that point, the point where he knew that he wanted her above all others.

They were in their eighth year of marriage, and years of cheating had finally caught up with him. Betty now had proof of infidelities, and she had dared to call him out on it. She took everything a step forward by throwing him out of the house, and seemingly out of her life. He never imagined her confronting him, telling him what she knew and acting on it. In one swift motion, the blink of a second, he was at the Roosevelt Hotel, separated from her and the children, finally faced with the possibility of losing everything.

During their separation, Betty's father Gene suffered a massive and debilitating stroke. He came home to her, without being asked, and filled in for her the only way he knew how. He stood at her side, put up with her jealous brother and delirious father. It was at her childhood home that baby Gene was conceived, though neither was aware of it at the time.

Upon returning home, Betty was quick to send her husband away once more, banished from the family. After the second push, he came clean to her, admitting his unfaithfulness, and his regret in nearly losing her and the children. He was unaware of Betty's condition, it didn't matter to him at that point. He wanted her for himself either way, in any way. He was in love, and it hadn't truly hit him until then.

Days later she called him home – home to stay. There was a baby on the way, and he now had the second chance he was so desperate for. Having a second chance meant being very careful about his actions. There was so much that had happened in the past that needed to stay in the past. His identity was Don Draper, which was all she knew him by. Telling her now that he was Dick Whitman – the poor farm boy with nothing to his name, would have tainted her view of him, sullied him in her eyes. He didn't want to see it, see her looking at him differently, as someone who wasn't worthy of her.

He hated the attic, so cold, dark, and lonely. It was exactly as he felt when she told him that she no longer loved him. He hadn't felt quite that alone in years, and was still shaking from the loneliness now. There was no solace to be found at work, where so many people seemed to be just as lonely and desperate as he was.

He had at least one more Thanksgiving with her, and he was going to make it memorable – for her and for him.


	2. Chapter 2: Family Affairs

**A July 4th surprise for everyone. There is an end in sight for the story. Please be patient, and as always, feel free to leave feedback.**

The family boarded into the family car and started on the drive for Philadelphia. The drive was expected to take close to three hours and the family was due at the Hoftstadts in time for lunch.

"Bobby stick to your side of the car!" Sally shouted, shoving her brother against the left car window.

"I am on my side – you can't keep all of the middle," Bobby insisted, looking to his father for support.

"Don't bother your father when he's driving," Betty warned warily, holding Gene in her arms. The trunk was filled with suitcases and bags, and the family seemed squished in the car as well.

"We haven't taken a car trip together in some time – it will take getting used to," Don suggested helpfully.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Bobby said bashfully.

"Bobby Draper I told you go before we left!" Betty scolded.

"I have to go too," Sally whispered.

"I'll pull over at the nearest gas station," Don mused as Betty let out a heavy sigh. After arriving in the city, she was going to go shopping with Judy for last minute food items, anything that wasn't already on hand for the big day.

* * *

After hours of driving, and plenty of rest stops along the way, the family pulled into the old Hoftstadt house – Betty's childhood home. The neighborhood was very different from when she was a girl: the houses were remodeled and redone, there were new trees and plants in the various yards, and there was even a new name for the neighborhood.

"Last time here," Betty whispered to Don, cradling baby Gene in her arms. Don, Sally, and Bobby helped to carry the bags to the front door. "William promised that Viola would be here for part of the weekend." Betty wanted the chance to say goodbye to the family's faithful maid and housekeeper. She was also a surrogate mother to Betty, when her own mother Ruth was too busy to mother her daughter. Betty loved Ruth Hoftstadt dearly, but the woman never would have won mother of the year – being too involved with her charity work and the house to pay attention to her chubby little girl. Ruth paid more attention to her daughter when she came a young woman, losing the baby fat and maturing into a beautiful version of herself. By that time though, the damage was done, and Viola had cemented her place in Betty's life as the confidant and champion.

"Who's Viola?" Bobby asked.

"She's my Carla," Betty said gently, turning the door knob.

"There's more than one Carla?"

"No goofy," Sally muttered.

"We're here," Betty called out, the troops following behind her.

"Welcome, welcome," Judy, Betty's sister-in-law said, coming down the stairs. "William wanted to be here, but he's finishing off some business."

"The Wednesday before Thanksgiving?" Betty asked, slightly agitated. "He promised he's be here."

"He'll be here in time for dinner," Judy promised. Judy's oldest daughter Alice came down the hall. "Alice, help Bobby and Sally get unpacked in the upstairs bedroom."

"You mean my room," Alice whined, making an angry face.

"That's enough," Judy warned. "You can bunk in with your sisters for the weekend. Bobby and Sally nervously shuffled their feet, both wanting to turn the car around and go back home.

"It's not like I wanted to be here," Sally whispered to her father, receiving a swift pat from him.

"Betty, you and Don can stay in your old room," Judy added. "And we can put Gene in the den – William already brought the crib out and everything."

"How thoughtful," Betty said with a forced smile.

"Alice, take your cousins upstairs," Judy said, pointing to the stairwell.

Alice, Bobby, and Sally did what they were told, leaving the grownups downstairs.

"So Judy, what else do you need for Thanksgiving dinner?" Betty asked.

"The list is in the kitchen," Judy said. "We just need breading, corn, sweet potatoes, and yams."

"I'd be happy to go with you. Don can stay and watch the kids."

"Perfect," Judy said. "Sorry again for being so disorganized. You have no idea how stressful it is to try to get the house on the market and sold."

"I've offered to help William," Betty reminded her.

"And he appreciates it." Judy took down glasses from the cabinet and reached in the top pantry for a bottle of wine. "I'm assuming you two are up for an afternoon drink?"

"Always," Don said with a low chuckle.

"How are you two?" Judy asked, passing out the glasses.

Betty circled the rim of her glass. "Don's business is doing great. Isn't it, Don?"

"Absolutely," Don chimed in.

"Well that's wonderful," Judy said.

"How's the house coming along?" Don asked.

Judy pursed her lips together. "Well I don't know if it's like this in New York, but the housing market isn't exactly seller friendly here."

"William didn't mention any trouble," Betty said, pouring more wine.

"William doesn't share everything with you," Judy retorted, lifting her hand to her forehead. "That was rude and I'm sorry. We've just been so…busy with everything and…"

"Why don't we go shopping now?" Betty suggested. "Don can take the bags upstairs and look after the kids."

"Sounds great," Judy said, standing to get her coat.

"Something's up with Judy and William," Betty whispered to Don. "There's a reason that William is working the day before Thanksgiving."

"Birdie, don't push too hard," Don suggested.

"This is my family," Betty responded, shooting Don a look.

"Your family? I thought it was our family."

"When has this been our family?" Betty asked pointedly. "You've never wanted to be part of my family, and you've made that clear."

Don let out a deep breath. "I'm trying to help."

"Why start now?" Betty asked coolly, walking out the room.

Don watched her leave, stunned at her reaction.

* * *

Betty and Judy walked the halls of the local A&P, fending off crowded shoppers, all going after the same hot ticket items.

"I'm jealous of you and Don," Judy joked as she grabbed a canned yam for the cart. "I think I always have been. That picture perfect wedding that you had – the high living life that you two share in Manhattan."

"It's not half as glamorous as you think," Betty laughed. "There are very few nights in Manhattan. Most days are spent at home with the kids."

"Winter and summer vacations are hard aren't they?" Judy asked.

"Yes," Betty acknowledged. "That's why I have Carla," she joked. "How's Viola?"

"She actually won't be at Thanksgiving this year. We've, let her go."

Betty stopped pushing her cart. "Let her go?"

"With the selling of the house, everything has been so busy and disorganized, and I've been home more to be with the kids, and take on the house work. So there hasn't been a need for her."

"Viola is family for William and me," Betty countered. "You could have told me this earlier."

"We knew you'd be upset, and we'd rather tell you in person instead of over the phone."

"Did William take care of Viola at least, give her a proper reference and final pay?"

"He gave her a reference," Judy conceded, grabbing the last items in her cart. "We can check out now. I wanted to get the appetizer dishes finished before tonight."

"Of course," Betty relented. "Are you sure that everything is okay at home?" Betty asked.

"We're still reeling from the Kennedy shooting – just like everyone else in the nation. And the housing market doesn't help matters." Judy handed her cash to the checkout clerk.

"If it's that bad, should we put off selling the house right away?" Betty asked. "Daddy always said the house was built at the top of the market, but that doesn't translate to right now."

"No it doesn't." Judy unlocked the car door, handing the bags to Betty as she got in first. "I've been trying to convince William to not sell right away and wait it out a little longer. It would give William and I more time settle matters and find a potential buyer for the house."

"We can discuss everything with William tonight," Betty suggested. "After we say hello of course," she chuckled. "Is there anything else I should know before William comes home?"

"I'll let him tell you," Judy said putting the car into drive. "Some things have happened since you saw him last summer."

"Things happened to me too," Betty said quietly. That summer, she and Don were in what she believed to be a good, healthy place. She had just had baby Gene, and Don was surprisingly supportive after the passing of her father, more attentive and visible than he had been before.

"Well you just had the baby," Judy gushed. "William and I have been discussing trying again. Bridget is already five. William doesn't seem to be interested though."

"Well Gene was sort of an accident," Betty said quietly. "He was actually conceived at the house."

"Your childhood home?"

Betty nodded her head. "Don and I never even discussed trying for another baby – we had our hands full with Sally and Bobby, but the stars were aligned, and it just happened."

"William doesn't even seem to want to try these days. Ever since he lost his job…"

"William lost his job at the bank?" Betty cut in.

Judy clamped her mouth shut. "I wasn't supposed to say anything, that was part of the secret. William got let go a month ago from the bank, and things have been going downhill since then."

"So where is William now?" Betty pressed.

"He's at the bank, trying to get a loan to keep the family afloat."

"Are things really that bad?"

"We don't all have husbands that work on Madison Avenue," Judy said exasperated. "I'm sorry again. I'm just so short tempered lately with everything going on. William and I have been living hand to mouth, dipping into our savings just to keep the house that we do have. William says that we can't get a good deal on the childhood house just yet, so he'd rather wait until the market gets better or…"

"Or what?"

"Or try to sell the house that we own and move into your father's."

"Judy!"

"William would pay you for your share of the house, when he gets the money."

"So things are that bad," Betty said finally.

"It's bene going on longer – before he lost the job. The lost job is just another stroke of bad luck for us."

"I am so sorry," Betty said quietly as they pulled into the driveway.

"Just be patient with William tonight," Judy pleaded. "When he tells you what happened, don't rub it in or ask too many questions."

"I can be very supportive."

"He always sees you two in competition. And you and Don are always the big winners. More money, more success, more of everything. Even your father knew it."

"Money is just a number. It doesn't equate to happiness."

"That's easy to say when you have it," Judy said pointedly.

Betty said nothing, not wanting to correct Judy or come up with a comeback of her own involving just how unhappy she was with the money and opportunities that Don was offering her back home. _Money's nothing without the love,_ Betty told herself. If she had told herself that fifteen years ago, as a pretty high school girl going after the lead senior, or even 12 years ago when she was modeling the finest fashions in Italy, she wouldn't have believed it.

"William isn't home yet," Judy said as they pulled into the driveway. She got out to open the trunk of the car.

"Don can get the groceries," Betty told her, instructing her to come inside. Judy wordlessly followed.

"Don, groceries are in the car," Betty called up the stairs.

"Got it," Don called, coming down the staircase. "How was shopping?"

"We got what we needed," Betty said finally.

"And?"

"And we can talk to William tonight and find out where we are with the house," Betty said simply.

Don shook his head as he walked out the front door. It was typical of her to keep her cards close to the vest, after everything that had transpired in the last month. _If she had her way I wouldn't even be here at Thanksgiving,_ he muttered to himself, wondering if his time would be better spent at the office than trying to make nice with her and her family.

* * *

William came home a few short hours later, with Don doing puzzles with the older kids, and the younger ones watching cartoons on the TV.

"Daddy's home," Alice called, beckoning Betty and Judy from the kitchen where they were putting the finishing touches on dinner.

"After dinner," Judy whispered to Betty, not wanting her to bring up anything unsavory in front of the children. Betty nodded her head in agreement, greeting her older brother with a hug.

"It's been too long," Betty said softly.

"You're the one who's been away," William said in a low monotone.

Betty pulled away, doing a double take. "You know I'm only a phone call away if you need me."

"Because you'd come right away?" William challenged.

"Yes," Betty said firmly. "The family missed you today. We all did."

As if on cue, Don stood up to greet his brother in law. The last time the two men had spoken, Don was warning William not to cross him when it came to Gene and the family house. A few short months ago, William suggested selling the home that he and Judy owned and moving in with Gene to take care of him, but at Betty's insistence, Don instructed William to let Gene move in with the Drapers in New York, and leave things as they were.

"I trust that you're taking care of my favorite sister?" William asked, joking lightly.

"Your only sister," Betty pointed out.

"I do my best," Don said, looking to Betty for confirmation.

"It's all any of us can do," Judy added helpfully. "Betty and I have cold cuts in the dining room – a sandwich buffet for dinner."

"We were busy preparing supper for tomorrow, so we're eating light tonight," Betty finished, calling the kids to the table.

"Anything sounds great at this point," William said, taking off his coat and shoes.

The family gathered together at the dining room table, the Hoftstadts on one side and the Drapers on the other.

"We should have a moment of silence for Daddy," Betty instructed. Everyone agreed and lowered their head.

"Let's eat," William said, pulling everyone back together. "How was the drive over?"

"Uneventful," Don said dryly.

"I beat Bobby at the license plate game," Sally said proudly.

"I wasn't really playing," Bobby grumbled.

The dinner continued with idle small talk about business in New York, which according to Don and Betty was going just fine. Betty was careful not to bring up William's business, or any personal details about her and Don's – or really she should say Dick Whitman's relationship.

After dinner and dessert, the kids were shuffled to the upstairs den to watch television while the grownups commandeered the downstairs living room. "Now would be as a good a time as any to discuss the house," Betty said simply, looking to William for confirmation.

"Judy and I think that we should wait to sell Dad's old house – the market should be improving within the next year or so," William explained. Judy refused to meet William's eyes, looking down at the carpet. "Judy?" William said for confirmation. "What's going on?" Judy said nothing, and William turned to his sister. "Did you two already discuss the house?" he demanded.

"William," Judy said slowly, only to be cut off.

"You don't get a say in it," William said. "And neither does he," William added, pointing right at Don.

Don Draper could feel his body start to tense up. William had always been quick to consider Don an outsider, just like Gene always did, and never accepted him into the family circle. "I just want what's best for you and Betty," Don said amicably. "And I'm sure that Judy feels the same way," he added, looking at her.

"Moving into Gene's house won't solve our problems," Judy said, her voice shaking.

William shot his wife a frustrated look. "We can't get our asking price for Dad's house right now, but we may be able to for ours," William said, turning to Betty. "Nothing's been decided yet."

"Of course not," Betty said, a slight edge creeping into her voice.

"You haven't been here to see how things are," William explained further. "It's silly to have this house and ours, and I was thinking that if Judy and I put up our house for sale and moved in here then it would be a temporary solution."

"Temporary solution for what?" Don asked.

"He lost his job," Judy said. "A month ago."

"I was going to tell you," William explained to Betty lamely. "But Judy already has."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Betty said gently. "People lose their job every day."

"And then they end up on bread lines and in shelters!" William shouted, exasperated.

"You two are a long way from there," Betty reasoned. "How long have you been considering selling your house?"

"We first thought of it in the spring – when Dad started taking ill and Gloria was gone. It's silly to have three houses in the family. And you yourself said you weren't ready to say goodbye to the house for good. Maybe you don't have to anymore."

Betty shook her head. "This was Daddy's house. You can't just claim it as yours because you're closer to it, or because you're going through a hard time right now."

"We need to decide something," William insisted. "We have three girls to think about."

"Don and I have our three as well," Betty pointed out. "The original plan was to go through with selling Dad's house. We don't have to decide anything this weekend, if you're not ready."

"So you're solution is to put everything off?" William asked.

"Until we are all thinking clearly," Betty said firmly. "Yes I think we should table the discussion until we have a clearer picture of what we need."

"Judy and I want this."

"Does she?" Betty stood up. "I haven't heard Judy at all in this conversation – I have only heard you!" Betty walked up the steps, signifying that she was done with the conversation, done with arguing, done with listening to William's excuses for why things had to be his way. She felt sympathy for her brother, for his current employment dilemma, but that did not give him the right to make the majority of the decisions.

"See you in the morning," Don said, going up the stairs after her.

"Talk to her," William suggested.

"You already said that Judy and I weren't involved," Don pointed out. He was feeling just as fed up with William as Betty was, and was more than ready to call it a night.

Don carefully knocked on the door to Betty's childhood bedroom, the light pouring into the hall. "Your brother is something else," he muttered.

"You haven't spent the past thirty years with him," Betty said, taking off her jewelry and makeup. "I feel sorry for Daddy having to live near him for so long. At first I thought William was doing the selfless thing, by staying close to Daddy, but the more I think about it, he stayed for selfish reasons. He wanted money, he wanted Dad's ear, he wanted…to be the decision maker," she said finally. As the man of the family, William was the default decision maker when it came to Hoftstadt finances – even if her mother had lived, William would have gotten a controlling hand and interest in what was going to go on.

"Well you deserve a medal for that," Don said helpfully, carefully unzipping Betty's dress.

"Thanks for the hands," she mused. "And taking the kids while I was with Judy. I think she needed a break."

"Well you would too if you were with William," Don laughed. "I didn't mind staying with the kids, I wasn't planning on going anywhere," he added, punctuating his final line.

Betty slid her dress down her body, revealing only her undergarments. "Did you all have fun?"

Don took off his jacket and shirt. "The kids were fine."

"Judy is far from fine," Betty noted. "And the house seems to be the least of her concerns."

"I didn't know things were so bad for them," Don said.

"I didn't know either," Betty admitted.

"Kind of puts us into perspective doesn't it?"

Betty shot Don a look of contempt. "Our problems may not be shared with the others, but we do have them," she pointed out. "I haven't forgotten any of them."

Don piled his clothing on the chair. "What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing," Betty replied. "There's nothing that you could say that would change what's happened."

Don let out a low breath and gathered a pillow and blanket from the bed. "Same arrangement as last year?"

Betty said nothing, crawling onto her side of the bed, her back turned toward Don on the floor. "Our last Thanksgiving together," she muttered.

"At the house," Don finished.

Betty turned over on her other side. "It could be the last Thanksgiving for us," Betty said quietly.

Don sat up on the floor, looking at his wife of ten years. "Do you really mean that?"

Betty propped her elbow on the bed. "We can't keep going like this. It isn't good for us or the children."

"Birdie…"

"You know how I feel about you," she said slowly.

"There was so much going on then, you were overwhelmed and confused…"

"You lied to me, there's no confusion about that."

"I'm telling the truth now."

"Only because you were caught," Betty insisted. "Would you have ever told me, if I never found the key in the bathrobe pocket?"

"Why did you even need to know?" Don countered. "We were fine before, we were both happy."

"I was waiting for the next big crisis," Betty said slowly. "The next affair, the next betrayal…"

"I have been faithful to you…ever since the Cuban Missile Crisis." He knew that he brushing over his fling with Sally's old teacher Suzanne Farrell. It was cut short by Betty's discovery of the locked drawer and his contents. He was ready to go away with her on vacation. She wasn't Sally's teacher anymore, though she did still work at the school. In his eyes, Betty had turned him away first, after a brief second honeymoon of sorts to Rome, where she turned down his advances. He didn't get the chance to ask what happened, he was too stunned by her initial rejection to do anything, but slide back to his old ways and start an affair with another woman. This one was closer to home, making the risk all the more greater if they were ever detected. Both parties were careful, there was no contact with each other at school functions, every meeting was under the cover of darkness, at her home, once the coast was clear.

"Do you want a medal for being faithful?" Betty asked shortly. "After all of these years?"

"I am still me," he insisted. "After all of these years, you know me better than most people."

"That isn't true," Betty countered. "You keep your life so close to the vest, there was no getting in for me or anyone else."

"Here's your chance – you know everything. You know who I am, where I came from. I never had the family that you did, with a mother and father who cared about me. I left home to join the Army because there was nothing there for me to stay for."

"Is your mother still alive?" Betty asked.

Don shook his head. "Adam told that she passed away, but she was dead to me long before that." Don looked up at Betty. "What it must have been like to be you, and have a loving family to support you. I never had that…until I formed a family with you."

"And you kept so much time keeping us at a distance. If Sally knew what you did with your nights in the city…"

"That is in the past."

"Yet I remember it so well," Betty whispered. "Every lonely night, every lie I told the children about where you were, so that you would continue to be the hero to them."

"I came home to you."

"Eventually, after you did whatever you wanted."

"All I want right now is you and the kids."

"You say that now, Betty said, her expression softening. "How do I know you'll feel that way five years from now, or even five days from now?"

"You have my word."

"A lot of good that's done me over the years."

"So I made you this way?" Don asked. "So untrusting of others."

"I guess so," Betty said. "I don't remember being like this when I was younger."

A low smirk formed on Don's mouth. "Do you think your life would have been better without me in it?"

"I never would have had the kids without you," Betty said softly. "You've given me so much over the years, and part of it has been wonderful."

"Well your welcome."

"I don't regret marrying you, if that's what you're wondering," Betty said with a small laugh. "Do you regret marrying me?" she asked shyly.

Don reached up and touched her hand. "You and the kids were the very best thing that ever happened to me – the best think I ever did was ask you to marry me. I would never take that back."

Betty didn't let go of his grasp. "You've never told me that before."

"I should have let you know earlier," Don admitted, and that was my mistake." Don touched the tip of her fingers, massaging the skin. "Is this it for us?" he asked. He had been wanting to ask her all week, when she first told him that she was no longer in love with him anymore. Part of him was afraid of the answer, and other part of him wanted to delay asking in the hope that she would find a change of heart on her own.

"I started thinking about that when I found the box," Betty admitted. "I still don't know how we can move on past everything that's happened."

"I'm trying," Don insisted.

"I know you are, and coming here for Thanksgiving is part of that. But I think I need more time," she said finally. "So I'm not saying that's it over, but I'm ready to start again either. It's the best answer that I can give."

Don nodded his head. He would have to accept her terms, the answer that she gave him. That was all he could do at this point. "You think anyone will come in here and see that we're not in bed together?"

Betty let out a small laugh. "Bobby or Sally might end up spilling the beans, but I doubt it."

"I'm sorry, Birdie."

"Sorry for what?"

"For putting us in this position." Don turned off the night light, turning his back to his wife.

Betty turned to her side. It felt different being here in the house without her father. She still remembered what it was like to return home after her mother's passing – to see her father a shell of a man, lonely and desperate for companionship. She had stayed with her father in Philly a full two weeks after her mother Ruth died, having Carla take care of the children back home. Her heart felt heavier now, knowing that both of her parents were deceased, and there was talk of either selling the house, or having her brother move into it with his wife and children. Betty felt that both options were harsh, both were so final. Without realizing it, tears began to fall down her cheeks, soaking the pillow.

"Birdie."

The calming voice of her husband did nothing to silence her qualms. She cried for her mother, her father, and her marriage to Don, which seemed to be in shambles just like the house.

Betty felt the bed move as Don crawled in next to her, slowing rubbing her back and lulling her to sleep in the same way that he did when she was pregnant with the children.

"I'm so alone," she said softly.

"I won't let you be alone," Don vowed. "No matter what happens to us, you will never be alone," he promised.

"Don," she murmured. It would be easy to kick him out of the bed, or out of the house for that matter, but for now, for tonight, their trials would be put on pause –the last thing she wanted was to be alone.


End file.
